Vanilla
by xPockyNoMikox
Summary: Crawford discovers Nagi's relationship with Omi and punishes him for it. Unable to take it anymore, Nagi escapes, hoping to find safety with Weiss. While Omi treats his wounds, Nagi realizes how different Omi is from Schwarz.


DISCLAIMER: I only own Weiss Kreuz in my dreams…

**Vanilla**

I braced myself as Crawford drew his hand back. I had known this was coming since the day I'd first become involved with the Weiss boy, and I had planned for it. It would be just like all the other times, except now Crawford had a reason to hit me. Being the youngest- not to mention smallest- in a group of assassins had its disadvantages. After living with Schwarz for so long, I was used to it.

Being a telekinetic helped, also. I had discovered some time ago that I could soften the blows, but not so much as to prevent any injury. Crawford had caught me at this once and had had Schuldig strip me of my powers for the remainder of the night. With my slight frame, I had come close to dying that time. At least, that's how it had felt. I'd since learned to refine my technique so that Crawford was unable to notice it unless he had a premonition.

It was useless now, though.

Schuldig had already barred my powers from my access, and I was defenseless. I'd committed too serious a crime to have the privilege of reducing the pain. Crawford had made every effort to ensure that I would experience every second of my punishment.

When it was over, I laid on the floor with my eyes closed until I heard the door close. It took several seconds for the room to come into focus; many of Crawford's blows had been aimed at my head, and few had missed their mark. The familiar sights of Crawford's office slowly lost their indistinctness as my vision cleared. I don't know why he always brought me in here to beat me; it wasn't as if we entertained often. In fact, I couldn't remember a single person entering this house other than one of our employers, and they certainly would not be averse to seeing a young boy lying unconscious in the living room.

Somehow, he had obtained one of Farfarello's knives, a fact that I knew wouldn't please the Irishman. My arms and face bore testament to this; none of the wounds were deep enough to pose any real danger, but that didn't prevent me from resenting every one of them.

As I struggled to get up onto my elbows, the door to Crawford's office creaked open. I quickly dropped back to the floor, muffling a wince as my bruised back hit the wood. To my surprise, it wasn't Crawford or Schuldig who entered, but Farfarello. I had assumed that Crawford had locked him in his cell downstairs before meting out my punishment, for Farfarello was the only one who objected to my beatings simply because I hurt God and he liked that.

After he'd retrieved his knife and proceeded to test its sharpness on his arm, he looked own at me with one golden eye. "You look like a fish," he said curiously. "The fisherman's gone. And fish can't live out of water. Find it before he returns." Licking the blood off his arm, he nodded, obviously satisfied with himself, and exited the small room.

I only half understood Farfarello's words. I assumed the fisherman was Crawford, but I wasn't sure what "water" he had been referring to. The madman's words seldom made complete sense, and right now I was too exhausted to try and decipher them.

One thing he was correct about, though, was the fact that I had to get out of here. I couldn't live through another of Crawford's punishments, and by his attitude before he and Schuldig left, I was almost positive I would receive one when he returned. And there was only one place I could think of to go where I would find any kind of safety without having to explain my situation.

Sometime during the half-hour or so I had spent on the floor, Schuldig had relinquished his hold on my powers. I reached for them shakily, stilling reeling from Crawford's blows. Using my telekinesis, I pushed myself to my feet and staggered out of the room into the kitchen. Farfarello was sitting at the kitchen table, an array of knives and darts laid out before him in some elaborate design. He never looked up as I shuffled to the sink and turned on the water to splash away the blood on my face.

"Not all kinds of water come from the earth," he said through the silence.

I turned to look at him, too tired to try and discern the meaning of his mind games. My face somewhat cleaned, I closed my eyes and drew my coat out of the closet in my room and floated it to me, all the while clutching the table for support. Even so simple a use of my powers left me nearly drained.

I made my way slowly to the door, passing Farfarello on my way. He reached out to grab me, and I winced as he gripped my bruised arm. Unable to resist, I turned to face him, expecting yet another knife-wound. The Irishman had never harmed me before, but I wasn't confident enough in his virtues to believe that he wouldn't start now. All the others had, soon enough.

"A single drop of water creates ripples that spread forever, encompassing all that come in contact with them." Finally, he looked up at me. "Love is like that, too."

He released my arm and turned back to his knives, drawing my gaze down with his. Catching the light, they glinted white on the dark tabletop. The weapons had been arranged in a pattern, crisscrossing with each other in the outline of a shape.

A cross.

I exited the house slowly, afraid that Crawford would return any moment. I wasn't worried about Schuldig; alone, he wouldn't spare me a second glance. It was only when the American was around to stir up some excitement that he even glanced in my direction. Fortunately, the street was clear.

It was raining. _How cliché,_ I thought cynically. Rain always seemed to know when one was gloomy and it fell accordingly, feeding off your gloom. What other purpose did it have? I'd never seen rain on a sunny day, never seen a rainbow. I was disinclined to believe in their existence.

For once, I was thankful for the rain. It meant less people on the streets and more obscurity for me to hide in. I'd hoped to avoid encountering anyone; my current state would arouse too many questions I was not prepared to answer. Still weak and growing weaker by the moment, I was half walking, half levitating through the alleys. At the rate my strength was diminishing, I knew I wasn't going reach my destination.

I did, though I can't remember how. All I could remember was the rain and the wind and the feeling of relief when I sunk down against the rear entrance to the shop. I passed the rest of the night there in a state of oblivion, half sheltered by the doorway until the wind shifted and the rain was driving into my face. I was thoroughly drenched by the time I finally feel into a deep sleep.

My consciousness jolted awake as something jarred my body- someone was carrying me. I was still too entombed within the blackness of sleep to notice more than that fact, but the sense of falling and then the sharp pains that screamed down my back as I landed woke me fully. I opened my eyes with a wince, blinked, and looked around.

I had indeed reached my destination; I was in the Koneko. I'd been deposited- quite unceremoniously- on the couch in the basement. My gaze traveled up to meet the violet eyes of the Weiss leader, Abyssinian.

"Schwarz," he said simply, smoldering eyes belying his impassive features.

I said nothing, simply stared up at him. I knew from our few encounters that he avoided speaking unless it was imperative, but I refused to provide any information unless he asked for it. I was already at a severe disadvantage being wounded in the headquarters of my enemy, and I was not about to give him anymore leverage over me.

"Why are you here?" he asked finally.

Closing my eyes, I assembled an answer. I didn't want to lie anymore than I had to in order to stay alive; I had no doubt that Abyssinian would kill me at the slightest provocation. I wished Omi were here, simply because he would defend me and I wouldn't have to waste anymore of my limited hoard of energy explaining myself to this emotionless killer. "I had no other place to go," I replied quietly.

"A hospital," the Weiss assassin said.

Unsure of whether it was a question or a suggestion, I didn't answer. A noise from behind me made me open my eyes in hopes of seeing Omi, but the dark-haired Siberian entered the room instead. He opened his mouth to speak but decided against it when he saw me. He stared at me for several seconds before he turned to Abyssinian and pointed at me.

"What is he doing here?"

The other man only looked at me. I offered no response, closing my eyes and turning my head slightly away. My brows furrowed as I concentrated my power, reaching out to awaken Omi somehow. My efforts were cut short as the cold metal of a blade was pressed to my throat. I opened my eyes.

"Don't," Abyssinian threatened coolly. "Prodigy." The last part was to remind me that he knew of my powers, though I hadn't doubted the fact to begin with.

From Omi's praise of the Weiss leader, I had hoped to at least find some refuge among them, but now I knew they were the same as Schwarz. Abyssinian didn't care about me, no matter how helpless I seemed. My injuries did nothing to soften the ice around his heart; if he was the leader of Weiss, the group's actions would naturally reflect this character. Schwarz was the same. The only difference was that Schwarz had no qualms about asserting their vices.

The interrogation continued like that, Abyssinian's katana hovering scant inches above my already lacerated neck. I don't know why he had been carrying it; from Siberian's haphazard clothes and tousled hair, it was obvious that he had just awoken. Abyssinian couldn't have been awake much longer. I supposed they weren't going treat my wounds until they got their information, if at all.

"Who did this to you?" Siberian asked as he ran his gaze over my body, injuries still visible through my torn pants and shirt. I blinked as I realized the underlying anger in his words was not directed at me, but at those responsible. I hadn't expected any sympathy here from anyone save Omi. And even there I had doubts.

I decided lying here wouldn't help my case, and there really was no reason to hide the truth. Omi had already discovered the origin of the injuries I often sported, and from his revolted response, I knew that the truth would gain me more sympathy than a lie. "Crawford," I replied.

"You mean Oracle?" Siberian's face mirrored Omi's initial disgust, and I mustered the energy to take satisfaction in knowing that the American had earned one more enemy. Shaking his head, the browned-haired man shoved his hands in his pockets frowned. "You're a telekinetic," he said. "Why couldn't you stop him?"

"Schuldig stripped away my powers." I was waiting for them to ask the next obvious question- why?- but a noise from the stairs drew everyone's attention. Abyssinian's katana never wavered, however, and I was mindful of its blade as I shifted. I closed my eyes, praying it wasn't the tall blonde man, Balines. Of all the Weiss members, he was the one I dreaded meeting the most. He'd taken a personal disliking to me when he had begun to suspect my relationship with Omi, for Omi had told me that Balines had made several advances on him already. I couldn't help but think that he would get along quite nicely with Schuldig.

"Ken-kun? Who are you talking to?"

It wasn't Balines. Omi descended the stairs and paused in mid-step, blue eyes wide. "Nagi!" he cried then raced toward me. He stopped just short of throwing his arms around me, taking in my current state with eyes growing ever larger. When he spoke again, his voice was low and strained. "What happened?" His gaze darted up to mine. "C-Crawford?"

I nodded, glancing sideways at the other two Weiss members. Anger had replaced the revulsion on Siberian's face, but Abyssinian's features retained their icy indifference. Omi knelt down beside me, placing his hand on a relatively unmarred part of my arm.

"You're soaking wet," the older boy said quietly. He reached for the blanket that hung over the back of the couch and placed it over me with a glare at Abyssinian. "Why didn't you help him?"

"I brought him inside," the red haired man replied as if justifying himself. He could have saved himself the effort, though, for Omi had already turned his attention back to me. Now that I had the reassurance of Omi's presence, I wasn't as desperate in my battle to remain conscious. Darkness overtook me once again.

When I awoke I was in yet another different location, this time Omi's bedroom. I was alone, tucked securely in Omi's bed. My wounds had been bandaged and my sopping clothes exchanged for some of Omi's slightly larger ones. The blankets smelled of vanilla, a scent I had come to associate with the youngest member of Weiss. I felt safe and, I realized with a start, content. I had never felt content since joining Schwarz; who could when your environment was fraught with death and cupidity? I couldn't say that those things were absent here- Weiss was an assassin group just as Schwarz was- but a part of me responded to something in this place, though I couldn't begin to guess what.

Nagikins… Where are you?

Schuldig. Only he used that pet name for me anymore, and I despised him for it. I slammed shut the mental barriers I had erected around my mind, closing my eyes as well. I had hoped to at least have enough time to recuperate before Schwarz discovered my location. There was no guarantee that Schuldig had been able to divulge that information before I raised my shields, but I couldn't count on it.

A muffled curse sounded out in the hall, and the door cracked open slowly. Omi entered, precariously balancing a tray of food and a cup of tea in his hands, and used his hip to push the door fully open before he hopped into the room. Kicking the door shut behind him, Omi hurried over to the desk to deposit his burden.

I smiled. Omi jumped when I shifted in the bed, letting out a startled "Oh, you're awake," before standing beside me and sliding his arm around my waist to help me sit up. "I brought up breakfast. Would you like to share it?"

"I'm not hungry," I replied inherently. My stomach let out an instant protest, groaning loudly and bringing a grin to Omi's face. A small smile played on my lips. "Ano…"

Giggling, Omi reached out for the tray, and I saw that it was covered with eggs and toast. He speared a piece of egg with his fork and brought it up to my mouth.

"I am able to feed myself," I murmured.

Omi smirked slyly as if sharing a secret with a small child. "But his is more fun, ne? Come on, Nagi-chan."

Blinking, I stared at him curiously. No one had ever affixed that suffix to my name, and though it bore uncanny resemblance to the name Schuldig often called me, I couldn't find any reason to dislike it. Obediently, I opened my mouth and allowed Omi to feed me. I enjoyed it immensely; no one had ever been so gentle with me.

When we had cleaned off the plate, Omi stretched out beside me on the bed and leaned back against the headboard. "Do you feel any better, Nagi?" he asked, trailing his finger down my arm.

"Hai."

Omi lowered his head, studying the blanket between us. "Why did…" He faltered for a moment, then continued. "Will you tell me what happened? Onegai?"

I shrugged carefully; despite having my wounds bandaged, they were still sore. "Crawford had a vision about us and decided I need to be punished. I knew I couldn't survive anymore if he returned that night, so I came here."

"Did he… did he…" Once more Omi trailed off, his eyes still downcast. Though, it wasn't difficult to infer his meaning from his tone. Had Crawford raped me? Not this time. He had been to absorbed in the violent part of it, but I had no doubt he would have had he found me in the house when he returned. That part no longer bothered me; there was no pain involved- if I cooperated. "Arigato, Kami-sama," Omi whispered when I shook my head.

I cocked my head at him, a smirk playing over my lips. "Nande? Do you only take unspoiled goods?"

Omi jerked his head up, glaring at me. But it wasn't anger in his eyes, it was pain. I had hurt him? Hadn't that been what he was after? I wasn't so naïve as to believe that someone would choose to be with me simply because they enjoyed my company, though I had to admit I had come to enjoy Omi's. But still I hadn't allowed myself to presume that there were no ulterior motives to Omi's actions toward me.

"Don't joke about that," he murmured hoarsely.

I couldn't bring myself to say that I hadn't been joking, not entirely. I didn't have to, though; Omi read it in my eyes. He was the only one who could claim that ability, the only one who had ever tried to.

He pulled me close, ignoring my wounds. "I'm not Crawford," he whispered fiercely, lips pressed against my ear. "I'm not Schuldig, not Farfarello- I'm not like any of them. That isn't what I'm after. I love you for you, Nagi, not your body." He released me quickly as if just realizing how tightly he had been holding me. Rising from the bed, his blue eyes met mine with a conviction that pinned me in place. "Never forget that."

I grabbed his wrist as he turned away, following some instinct that had risen within me. "Matte." I was on the verge of something, and Omi was the one with the power to push me over the line. I needed to understand, though what I was supposed to understand I didn't know. But somehow, Omi did. He was the catalyst I needed. I tested his name out on my lips. "Omi." It tasted different, felt different. There was some secret in it I needed to know. "Omi."

The young assassin slowly lowered himself back down to the bed, eyes never leaving mine, and pressed my fingertips to his lips. A shock ran through me at the contact, drawing me ever closer to that brink. I slid my arms around his neck hungrily, eager to find out what lay in his kiss. We'd kissed before, but now I realized that I had never kissed him at all.

Our lips connected. I shuddered, emotions suddenly roiling through me. They tasted of vanilla and smelled like cinnamon and flowers. Cascading through me until I thought I would drown without a saving hand, I was lost in their maelstrom.

And suddenly, I understood.

The water that I was supposed to find. _"Love is like that, too."_

I smiled and melted deeper into the kiss. _It's not water at all, Farfarello. It's vanilla…_

A/N: Thank you all for reviewing! I am writing a sequel to this (it's called Chocolate! ) so keep an eye out for it!

Update: The sequel is out! It has been out for quite a while! So please stop asking for it!


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